


Appetite for Destruction

by subito



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff and Crack, Getting Together, M/M, Social Media, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8889796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subito/pseuds/subito
Summary: Betting on the election outcome could prove to be the best thing he has done all year and Marco is particularly looking forward to collecting his reward.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/gifts).



> Wishing you a Happy Yuletide!

_Sunday, 20 Nov_  
“A bet is a bet,” Marco says and takes a sip from his drink. The ice cubes numb his bottom lip through the glass, and he relishes the light burning sensation when the liquid hits his throat. It’s nice to have a taste of victory - despite the circumstances. 

It has barely been two weeks since the night of the election that will shape things for years to come in a way no one can really predict. Everyone is trying to find positives to take away from it but every news announcement is making it harder by the day. Even Marco’s joy about his reelection as Senator for Florida is muted by his loss in the primaries. After all that has happened in the last few months, he is due something good. Most things might not have gone according to plan, but they got him to this table on a Sunday night. Betting on the election outcome could prove to be the best thing he has done all year and Marco is particularly looking forward to collecting his reward. He sets the glass back down onto the coaster and watches as condensation forms a dark ring.

The man opposite him is uncharacteristically quiet. For someone who, on all occasions, can talk everyone’s ear off, it’s even suspicious. Ted’s hands are wrapped tightly around his own glass of amber and Marco wonders briefly if the cold feels soothing to Ted or not. On this night, he has almost no resemblance to the person who talked for 21 hours and kept people awake – some of them for days - reading Dr. Seuss. 

It’s just the two of them in this weirdly lit bar where, thankfully, no one cares who or what they are. The people here don’t care for politicians in general, but they have seen it all before, seen the most corrupt and most obnoxious, the most violent, the most everything. Two suits who have been on TV a few times and are having a few drinks by themselves don’t register on anyone’s radar. At first Marco thinks it’s this indifference that has Ted appear so subdued and not just the lost bet. Then it occurs to him that, maybe, the occasional brushing together of their knees also has something to do with it. Whatever it is, he trusts he will find out eventually. This night of victory he can’t waste on testing theories.

“The bottom of a glass never provides a way out,” Marco jokes and clinks his glass against the rim of Ted’s that is still being hugged by decently-sized hands. “Come now, you don’t want people to question your integrity, do you?” 

This gets the attention Marco was angling for and earns him a pained sigh that is accompanied by the hint of a smile. Ted has the theatrics down to a T. Years of performing in front of crowds in one way or another have made him into the sort of master manipulator he needs to be in this job. Still, Marco has known and studied him long enough to figure out some of Ted’s tells. 

He sees the way Ted’s fingers move, sees small muscles contracting in Ted’s face, and Marco fights the urge to rattle the man’s cage. It’s not the first time Marco has thought about wanting to break Ted’s carefully constructed composure, but it comes to him fresh in this moment when he sees how the other man is playing it up. It has worked before in debates: Marco got a millisecond of a slip and a knowing look from the corner of Ted’s eye. It flooded him with a feeling of immense pride and satisfaction, and he just knows that this whole bet thing will get him a bigger dose of it. 

“Look, Marco,-” Ted starts and uses the ‘open and honest offering’ gesture that just causes Marco to laugh in his face. He of all people should know you never try to con a con man.

“A bet is a bet!” He stands up and catches Ted tracing more than just the movement with his eyes. Marco pulls a rolled-up shirt out of a bag and puts it on the table, his own smiling face staring back at both of them. 

The t-shirt is a shade of blue that weirdly harmonizes with the color and marble of the wood. This is meant to happen, is a thought that crosses Marco’s mind with content. The white outline of his face on the fabric gets flipped upside down and Ted points at the lettering: RU(BAE)O. “This has to be the worst merchandise in recent history.” 

“I expect you to wear it,” Marco says as Ted still shakes his head and even chuckles to himself suddenly. “Just like you promised,” he adds with a grin. 

On his way out Marco claps Ted on the shoulder and sees him looking up with an ominous smile. The shadows accentuate the dusting of freckles from this angle and Marco cuts his laugh short to swallow and hurry home.

~

_Monday, 21 Nov_  
It’s early in the morning when Marco’s phone alerts him to a message. The sound is different to the usual push news he receives at this time, and when he checks it, with one thumb and still-blurry eyes, he smiles into his coffee. 

REC: _I hope you washed it._

It’s short and he knows what Ted is referring to but it still makes him smile. Of course their routines are similar; knowing when his fellow senators got dressed was not something he had been actively thinking about before, though. 

Marco: _Is that you, Rafael Edward Cruz? Never took you for one to be so mysterious._

REC: _You know Ted is perfectly fine. You also know one of our fine security personnel set this up when I got this thing._

Marco: _Keep yourself telling that. At least they have a sense of humor, Mr. Rec_

REC: _I don’t see anyone calling you Mark Antony_

Marco: _…unlike you_

REC: _I think we can agree I have a perfectly good sense of humor!_

Marco: _Compared to Kasich perhaps._

REC: _I’m not the one whose face is on a t-shirt describing them as_ bae

Marco: _Still surprised you know what that means_

REC: _I am a man of the world_

Marco snorts involuntarily and downs the rest of his coffee. Five more minutes and he has to be on his way.

Marco: _TBH I’m grateful the ‘Ruboi’ design got scrapped in the early stages_

REC: _Not sure I even want to know_

Marco: _You don’t. Answer to your question is of course I washed it. Wouldn’t want you to break out and have conspiracy theories starting about attempts of trying to poison you._

REC: _Too right. You know I can argue just about any case and win._

Marco: _Not impressed. I’m also a lawyer Ted. Stop bragging and put on the shirt._

He thinks for a second, then quickly taps out another text. He even tops it off with an emoji. If you go over the top, go over the top.

Marco: _Used the best detergent even. Really, you should be thanking me you get to smell that nice for a change ;)_

REC: _You are a brat. Someone ought to teach you some manners some time, Marco_

Marco is about to write “Threat or promise?” before he catches himself and remembers just who it is he is exchanging messages with. Lately, their private exchanges have started to sound more and more- the only word Marco can think of is ‘flirty’. It’s become easy talking to each other. He appreciates this new lightness that has seeped into their working relationship as well. If he is being honest with himself, he finds that he wouldn’t mind testing out that line just to see what sort of reaction he would get. For now, though, with a look at the time, he bottles it; there will be many opportunities. After all, they both know how to create them. 

Marco: _About to head into the office. Suggest you do the same. Put on the shirt and give some interviews, Mr important._

He locks his phone, grabs his coat and case and heads towards the car.

~

_Thursday, 23 Nov_  
It’s the end of another long day and Marco is looking through some of the footage in search for his t-shirt. Keeping track of Ted is easy; Marco even got a staffer just for that task. With all the speculation over cabinet positions these days, it’s the obvious thing to do. Everything seems possible.

In a few of the pictures he can just about make out something blue peeking out from underneath Ted’s plaid shirts. He knows he should have insisted on tighter rules but at least Ted _is_ wearing it. The feelings of glee that come with the evidence of making Ted wear something of his is slightly disproportionate to the actual achievement, yet he relishes it all the same and doesn’t let it be tarnished by thinking about it too deeply. What he does think about is how Ted can and should do better to honor their bet. Marco decides he needs to keep Ted on his toes and sends him the first message in two days. 

Marco: _So give it up smooth/ Ain't no tellin when I'm down for a jack move/ Here's a murder rap to keep yo dancing/ With a crime record like Charles Manson_

About ten minutes later he gets a reply.  
REC: _Am I right in assuming this is your legendary hip hop knowledge showing?_

Marco: _Maybe it was just another hidden zodiac killer joke_

REC: _It better not be. I think I’ve heard them all now._

Marco: _Or what? You gonna murder me?_

The exchange has been quick and Marco is suddenly aware how he is doing it again, tempting Ted into the responses he probably wants to hear, seeing if they would come at all. So he tries to resist temptation, which, thinking back to the foam parties, is not something he has ever been that good at. 

Marco: _You probably murdered half the nation anyway when you tried to serenade the audience with what you called a song._

REC: _I know I can’t sing to save my life but everyone loves corny, twisted lyrics, Marco!_

Marco: _If I ever find any of those on my mailbox..._

REC: _You would hum the melody all day. You are softer than you let on, the hip hop doesn’t fool anyone._

Marco: _I’d rather listen to Tim spit into his harmonica_

REC: _Rude. I see we are back to you needing to be taught some manners._

Marco is well aware of that. The fact that Ted brought it up again is giving him food for thought, though.

Marco: _You are the one in need of manners! You didn’t exactly honor our bet so far_

REC: _I am wearing the t-shirt, BAE!_

Marco: _But not for everyone to see_  
Marco: _Don’t call me that or I’ll start calling you Edward_

It takes a few minutes for the reply to come this time.  
REC: _Need to take one last phone call. Town hall meeting tomorrow._

~

_Friday, 24 Nov_  
It’s early in the afternoon and after his own share of meetings, Marco is looking at the pictures from Ted’s town hall meeting. Marco is disregarding the paper one of the interns has also provided, he will read through the neat listing of all the talking points later. For the moment, his attention is focused on what Ted chose to wear. 

The photographer seems to have caught on to the fact there is something to be discovered about Ted Cruz’s wardrobe. Several of the pictures aren’t the usual close-ups of face, hands, shoes. They concentrate on the open buttons of the shirt and the contrast to the color underneath. Ted has chosen to unbutton his shirt just enough so the white curve of Marco’s head is starting to show. It’s far more than he has shown before but not near close enough to what he was supposed to do. 

Clicking through the pictures, Marco decides to not pursue anything today. There will be a better time to bring it up and think about things to do about it. He looks at Ted standing with his legs apart and the grip his hand has on the microphone, skips over the belt buckle pictures on purpose and zooms in again on the close-up of Ted’s unbuttoned shirt. Marco shifts in his chair and uncrosses his legs again. The shift in pressure makes him realize he has more urgent matters that need to be dealt with.

~

_Saturday, 26 Nov_   
Fidel Castro has died and Marco is, to put it mildly, deeply unsatisfied by the responses so far. He sends out a tweet criticizing the lack of calling Castro out on all the atrocities he committed and expects the usual responses of praise and trolls. But then Ted surprises him by sending out a tweet in return, agreeing with him, being an ally again. 

Marco reads over the words (“Marco’s right”) a few times and decides it’s been too long since their last exchange. He sends him a private message that simply says “Thanks for the support.”

What he gets back is a text and Marco laughs because, on the one hand, he feels like the cool kid, the one who knows how to navigate the complicated world of social media. On the other hand, he knows Ted is only being careful, conscious of the possibility he might accidentally send the private message out to his twitter feed for the entire world to see. It makes Marco wonder just what exactly Ted is thinking of writing.

After some polite exchanges about the current situation, Marco steers them towards the subject of their bet again.

Marco: _I must say, Ted, I’m a bit disappointed in how little you seem to honor our bet_

REC: _Oh, I assure you, Marco, I am wearing your t-shirt._

Marco: _Not from what I can see_

REC: _I hope this wasn’t your way of asking for a selfie_

Marco ignores the mental image of Ted taking a selfie in the bathroom mirror. Although it would explain his being so cautious about what he sends via twitter. Marco shakes off that line of thought and finishes typing.   
Marco: _The point is you are supposed to wear it in public!_

REC: _But where is the fun in that, Marco. I took you for someone with a more capable imagination._

Marco: _You make time to see me tomorrow and you will wear the t-shirt! For everyone to see!_

REC: _It’s cute how you think you are in charge._

Marco reads it at least three times, closer to eight if he is being honest, and he can’t make sense of how it has ever come to this. And then, to make things worse, Ted sends another add-on text to tease.   
REC: _BAE_

Marco can imagine exactly how Ted’s lips would curl, sarcastically or sadistically even, saying the word out loud. What he isn’t really prepared for is how much he enjoys this side to Ted, this side that he has never seen so pronounced before. But It doesn’t mean he is giving up the fight easily.

Marco: _Last time I checked_ you _were the one who lost a bet. Edward._

REC: _You can be in a position of disadvantage and still hold all the cards. But I’m sure you of all people are well aware of that._

Marco: _I have no idea what you are trying to say. Just wear the shirt tomorrow. Or there_ will _be consequences. My staff are very able._

REC: _I’m sure. No need for empty threats, Marco. We shall find out tomorrow._

Marco: _Tomorrow. Same time, same place. T-SHIRT!_

His phone buzzes again but Marco is too agitated to have another look. Ted has always been able to get under his skin. But this is a whole new dimension in the way his mind - and worse: his body - reacts to it. He needs to rest and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be soon enough.

~

_Sunday, 27 Nov_  
Ted is already there when Marco arrives. He would recognize the nose anywhere, so long compared to his own, even here in half-profile, with the foggy light that always seems to dissipate and scatter its particles before hitting an edge, never highlighting, never provoking harsh realities. It’s one of the reasons Marco chose this bar: having a place that is in limbo, giving him an opportunity to think about things other than policies or responsibilities or the law.

Ted is sitting at the somewhat secluded table that has morphed into their spot over the last months. His back is turned to the door, and he appears far too confident in himself for Marco’s liking. There is a constant smugness that surrounds Ted, an aura that has been there for as long as Marco knows him. It used to be a source of either annoyance or admiration for Marco, and when he sees Ted turn towards him he knows which one it is today. Marco orders his usual and wrestles out of his jacket before he properly scans Ted. He is greeted with a raised eyebrow that just dares him to comment on what is obviously missing. Marco doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he thinks of some pointers to give to his staff for the revenge plot while grinning as pleasantly as possible at Ted as they make small talk.

When Ted orders them another round, Marco takes the opportunity to study him more closely and search for signs of the t-shirt. Frustratingly, he cannot find any at all. Ted’s shirt is unbuttoned, down to the starting point of his sternum, showing nothing but a plain white t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination about what his chest might look like. Just like the rolled-up cuffs exposing his forearms. Ted isn’t wearing the blue t-shirt he is supposed to wear and although he catches Marco looking, he doesn’t mention it. But Marco doesn’t look away; he decides two can play the game and remains just as stubborn. Until, after about two hours of tension and pleasantries, they step outside and walk to their cars. 

It’s a small parking lot and, just as tonight, their cars usually end up parked next to each other. Sandwiched in between them, Marco finally says, “So, this was nice and all. But where. Is. The. Shirt?“ He emphasizes the last four words by poking Ted’s chest with an index finger. 

Marco is surprised by Ted’s hand catching his own, accompanied by the words “Manners, Marco.” 

There is no edge to the words, but a playfulness that is almost believable were it not for the little faltering of his hand that is still curled around Marco’s. It’s not a particularly cold night, but there is a shiver running through him nonetheless. This isn’t something Marco has ever thought about happening. Or rather, it’s not that he hasn’t thought about it, in detail, he just never thought they would actually take this step. So he can’t be blamed for the stutter that finds its way into his reply. “Y-you.. The bet,” he tries and then just gives up.

Marco feels like leaning back against his car, running away, but none of them is moving. They are looking at each other in a mixture of hesitation and determination and it’s simply overwhelming. 

The warmth of Ted’s fingers becomes Marco’s focus point and to break the silence, and do _something_ , he clears his throat and asks, “How are you so annoying?”

It’s spoken weakly, without any heat, and earns him a huffed laugh. 

“You like it,” Ted states and tilts his head.

Marco can tell the confidence is only partly a front. This is the moment he needs to do something, and so he does by stepping even closer. When Ted doesn’t make any effort to step away, Marco puts a hand on Ted’s neck, just where the t-shirt should be visible. His thumb strokes over the soft skin along the hairline, and Marco can feel how Ted is trying to resist the urge to lean into it already.

“When you come with me,” Ted starts and squeezes Marco’s hand, “I’ll show you exactly where,” he pauses and pointedly looks at Marco with a smirk “and just how I’ve been wearing your t-shirt.” 

From the way Ted says it and looks at him, Marco gets a vivid image that, at this point, isn’t enough anymore. He doesn’t care about the cunning ruse now; he needs to see Ted in that t-shirt.

“Lyin’ Ted,” Marco bites out, then chuckles softly and pulls Ted in for a kiss.


End file.
